


Do You Believe In Magic?

by beargirl1393



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Female Mycroft, Flashbacks, Gen, Genderbending, Potterlock, Teen Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-23 05:21:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4864619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beargirl1393/pseuds/beargirl1393
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Myra Holmes had graduated from Hogwarts, with full honors despite her condition, eleven years ago. Now that her daughter Elizabeth is receiving her own letter, Myra is going to have to face the man she left behind before she graduated. How will John react to finding out that he is a father? Will Myra be able to deal with the pressures of her job, her daughter leaving for school, and seeing her old partner once again?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the fuckyeahteenlock Back to School contest. 
> 
> Title is a work in progress, it'll likely change when I have a better idea, I just had that song stuck in my head and it seemed to fit.

It was late. Ordinarily, unless there was a pressing matter of national security to deal with, Myra would have been asleep. Unlike Sherlock, she knew the value of sleep while one could get it.

Tonight, however, was different. Twelve years ago, she was an ordinary student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She was at the head of all of her classes, a prefect during her fifth and sixth years and head girl during her final year.

Three months into her final year, she discovered that she was pregnant.

Eleven years ago, after she graduated with full honors and ignored any sneering or comments about her condition, she had given birth to her daughter, in a muggle hospital where no one who knew Myra Holmes would expect to find her.

Three months into her final year, she had thought that her life was over. All of her carefully cultivated goals, dreams, desires…all swept away with one fell mistake.

Eleven years ago, staring into her daughter’s face, she’d acknowledged that perhaps her life was not over. And now, on her daughter’s eleventh birthday, she was sitting up and waiting for the owl. Most of the letters were sent out within an hour of the child officially turning eleven. Elizabeth had been born at two in the morning, her letter should arrive by three.

Myra knew Elizabeth was on the list, of course. She had checked within weeks of her daughter’s birth, and the few instances of accidental magic over the years, always carefully covered up, had simply confirmed it. Elizabeth would be getting a letter from Hogwarts. She would have to explain, about the magical world, why she had left it behind as much as possible…all of the secrets that she had kept for years would have to be revealed.

She owed Elizabeth that much, and her daughter was too intelligent to be put off with vague comments for much longer. She had never spoken about Elizabeth’s father, never acknowledged how young she was when her daughter had been born. Even when Elizabeth was old enough to do the simple math that would subtract her age from her mother’s and find out how old Myra had been when she was born.

Her daughter was bright, but she also had more tact than most children her age. Elizabeth had never asked, but Myra knew she was curious. She had turned a blind eye to Elizabeth’s search for her birth certificate, and had not commented on her daughter’s disappointment at dinner the night she’d realized that the father’s name wasn’t written on it.

She doubted that Elizabeth’s father knew that she existed.

She had been eighteen, but she had been smart, stubborn, determined. She would have her daughter and raise her well, but she would not sacrifice herself upon the alter of motherhood and let all of her dreams rot. There was much she planned to do, and she was not going to let a teen pregnancy stop her.

She had been smart enough to make it work, and she had been lucky.

She had been lucky because Elizabeth’s father had been pulled out of Hogwart’s before she began to show noticeably. He had been pulled from Hogwart’s and sent to Beauxbaton’s instead, some sort of familial concern that she was aware of but not privy to the details of occurring behind the scenes at the best possible time.

He had written, of course, she had realized that he was genuinely fond of her as a friend, although it was clear that he hadn’t made a decision about the depths of his feelings for her. If he had found out about Elizabeth, he would have forced himself to do the ‘honorable’ thing, making a life with them regardless of his thoughts.

That way would have ended in a divorce, as even if he liked her, it was clear that his mind was divided and he did not know if he loved her. She was only lucky that he had been out of the country when Elizabeth was born, and that they had not ran into him since.

That luck would not hold forever, she knew. She had heard that he was in England once more, and that his niece and nephew would be going to Hogwart’s this year, starting when Elizabeth did. He would go with his sister to drop the children off, as he had always been close to them. The platform was large, of course, and she was well-versed at hiding in a crowd, but he had always been fairly observant.

He would see them, he would put the pieces together, and then…

Well, she did not know for certain what he would do. He had always been able to surprise her, even when everyone else she had been forced to interact with fell into predictable patterns.

Perhaps that was why she was pacing in the living room at nearly three in the morning, she acknowledged, if only to herself. It was not worry that Elizabeth might not receive a letter, as she knew that her daughter was on the list and the letter would arrive when it was supposed to. There was nothing to worry about in that matter, although there would be explanations owed to Elizabeth come morning.

That would be handled fairly easily, however, as her daughter was practical. Her main concern was what would happen when she saw John once more.

No doubt there would be the predictable small talk, the ‘how have you been?’ and ‘it’s been ages’. After that, however, he would notice Elizabeth, and doubtless she would say that it was her first year at Hogwart’s. He would wait until Elizabeth was out of earshot before asking, of course, as he had always been considerate. He would leave it in question, inviting the possibility for her to lie and tell him that she had been with another after he had moved.

The worrying part was that she didn’t want to lie. She wanted to tell him the truth, to admit that Elizabeth was his daughter. He would have questions, perhaps he would want to be involved and perhaps he would not.

Tapping on the window broke her from her musings. Her Greater Sooty Owl, named Charcoal on a whim as she disliked naming things, flew in as soon as she opened the window, landing on her shoulder and allowing her to take the letter from it’s beak.

Of course, ordinarily the Hogwart’s letters were mailed via the school owls, but her wards would not let them through and thus Charcoal had gone. The letter was exactly as she remembered it, although she knew that the contents had changed since she had last received one.

Tomorrow, she would have to explain to her daughter that magic existed. Tomorrow, she would start along the path that would force her to confront John for the first time in eleven years.

Tonight, however, she allowed Charcoal to fly off after giving her a treat, laying the letter on the hall table and going up to her room. She needed to sleep if she was going to be answering questions about magic in the morning.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note about the last chapter: I know that in Harry Potter, Harry starts getting his letters before his birthday, and Hagrid hand delivers it exactly at midnight on his birthday, but I figured for ordinary students, ones who aren't Harry Potter and who don't have relatives keeping their letters from them, the letters would be sent out around the time they were born. Also, with Myra's wards, she had to send her own owl to get the letter, so it would take a bit longer.

When Elizabeth came down for breakfast, the letter was beside her plate. Myra had woken early, as usual, despite the lack of sleep the previous night. Her wand was in a holster on her forearm, hidden by the long sleeves of her blouse and jacket. She would be going to the office after breakfast, once she had explained everything to Elizabeth, and had planned for their trip to Diagon Alley to occur after lunch. Buying Elizabeth’s supplies now would save them hassle, as most saved their shopping for closer to September first. Everyone always rushed to get their school supplies in late August, usually the week before the start of term. Going a few weeks earlier would save them from being caught in the worst of the lines while doing their necessary shopping.

Elizabeth stood by her chair, staring at the envelope curiously. She rarely got mail, although her mother usually had several envelopes waiting by her plate, she would go through them, as well as her emails, while Elizabeth had her breakfast, but Elizabeth rarely had mail of her own.

“Open it, Elizabeth, you’ll hardly get any answers by staring at it,” Myra replied, amused. She sipped her tea, watching as Elizabeth picked up the envelope, turning it over in her hands before opening it and withdrawing the parchment within. She knew the moment that Elizabeth saw the name of the school, seeing the disbelief in her daughter’s expression.

“Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?” Elizabeth asked, arching an eyebrow as she read through the papers. An acceptance letter, a train ticket, a list of supplies…someone had to be playing a very elaborate joke, that was the only reasonable explanation. One of the other students, who thought that she was too uptight and studious had decided to send her a letter to a magic school.

“It isn’t a prank, Elizabeth. Hogwarts is a real school, which is rather selective about who is chosen to attend. Only certain students are accepted, which is part of how they keep their anonymity.”

“Magic doesn’t exist, Mum,” Elizabeth said, rolling her eyes. Her mother usually had little patience for ridiculous things, she was too busy, so Elizabeth didn’t understand why she was acting like this now.

Myra sighed, flicking her wrist so her wand would slip into her hand. “This is my wand, Elizabeth. It is ash wood, with a dragon heartstring core. My mother and father took me to Diagon Alley when I was eleven years old, to buy my schoolbooks and other supplies.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened when a stick appeared in her mother’s hand, but she got out of her chair, moving around the table and reaching to put a hand on her mother’s forehead. Clearly her mother was sick, she would never do something like this otherwise. While her uncle had dressed up as a pirate and led them on a quest for gold, her mother had never been one for flights of fancy.

“I am not ill, Elizabeth. You have never known me to lie to you without reason, nor have I ever attempted to trick you.” Myra had expected this, any child raised without proof of magic would be suspicious, and she was slightly proud that her daughter was inclined to question everything before accepting.

She debated briefly which spell to use. Making the dishes float could easily be explained, Elizabeth would be checking for wires suspended from the ceiling. Instead, she decided to do something that would less easily be explained away. It had been years since she had needed to perform this spell, she had only encountered dementors once and the experience was one that she did not wish to dwell on, so she cast the spell, watching as the shimmering, silver crow appeared, wings beating easily as it hovered in midair for a moment before alighting on the table.

Elizabeth’s eyes were round, stunned speechless. Her mother had waved the stick, said a few Latin words, and suddenly silver light was flowing from the stick, coalescing into the form of a crow. She thought, briefly, that it was a trick, that her mother had hidden a projector somewhere, but that thought left as quickly as it came. Her mother would never go to all this trouble just for a trick. “This is real?” she asked, reaching out to touch the crow. It disappeared when her mother lowered the stick, no, the _wand_ , but she had seen it and felt it briefly. It wasn’t an image from a projector, it wasn’t a trick.

“You’re…you’re really…?”

“A witch,” Myra replied, slipping her wand back into it’s holster. “Correct. You are as well, my dear, although there was never any doubt. It is in your blood, and your name has been down since the moment of your birth.”

“My blood,” Elizabeth repeated, looking up at her mother speculatively. She had dozens of questions about magic, and she knew that her mother would likely answer each one, or at least give her the resources to find the answers herself, but something else came to the fore of her mind. “Did my father go to Hogwarts too?” She knew nothing about her father, her mother never spoke of him, and she was honestly curious. She didn’t feel like she was lacking anything, but she had always wondered why her mother kept all information about her father hidden away. She didn’t even know the man’s name.

Myra sighed, she had been expecting this. “Yes, he went to Hogwarts, although during our final year, he transferred to a school in France due to familial difficulties.”

Before her mother had known she was pregnant, then, Elizabeth surmised. Perhaps her father didn’t even know that she existed, or if her mother was still alive. Eleven years was a long time, after all, and any number of things could have happened.

Elizabeth changed the subject, asking questions about magic and drinking in the information and promise of a shopping trip that afternoon. But she also paid special attention to what her mother said about how wizards and witches communicated. She couldn’t do anything yet, owls at least needed a name, according to her mother, but if she could convince her mother to tell her more about her father…her school list did say that she was allowed to have an owl, and she doubted that her mother would begrudge her a pet. If said pet just happened to be able to carry letters, so much the better.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Halloween, since I can't afford to give out candy this year, I decided to do something else and update each of my WIPs on this site.

Myra left for work after breakfast, as she usually did. Elizabeth didn’t see how her mother could do anything the way they normally did, her world had been shifted on it’s axis, but she realized that her mother had likely been preparing for this day for years.

During the school year, she was in school while her mother worked, staying with her uncle or grandparents whenever her mother needed to work late. During the summer, her uncle’s landlady, Mrs. Hudson, would come over to watch her while her mother was at work, or she would go to her uncle’s or grandparents’ home.

Today, Mrs. Hudson was busy as were her uncle and grandparents, so her mother was trusting her home alone. Although, ‘alone’ was rather the wrong word when she knew there were likely security people stationed somewhere for her protection and her mother was just a phone call away.

Once her mother was gone, Elizabeth went straight up to her room, moving to sit at her desk. It was positioned in front of the window, so that she could look out of it while working on her homework, but today she barely spared a glance out of the window.

Rummaging in her desk, Elizabeth was ultimately successful in finding what she sought, a pen and a blank notepad. She paused for a moment, debating what would be the best way to do this, then decided to make a list of what she knew, to organize her thoughts.

  *          Mum is a witch.
  *          I am too, and will be going to magic school in the fall.
  *          Hogwarts is where Mum went, and my dad did too.
  *          They met at Hogwarts? Uncle Sherlock may know.
  *          Wizards can send letters with owls.
  *          I can take an owl with me to school.



Elizabeth tapped the paper with her pen, looking at the list and debating what her next step should be.

 _Do magic schools have a yearbook?_ Elizabeth wondered. That would likely be a good place to start. If she could find a picture or anything from her mother’s school days, maybe she would be able to find her father. It couldn’t be that difficult, and her mother had already given her a few clues.

The man was the same age as her mother, and while he had been present at the start of the year, and all the years before, he had left before she was born. The magic school likely kept records of their students, she could write to them and ask for a record of their transfer students during her mother’s final year. And she could look through the things her mother had kept from her school days.

She would need to be careful with that, however, as her mother always noticed when something was moved. As long as she was careful, however, and put everything back in it’s proper place once she was done, it should be possible. There would be no point in worrying about it until after she got her owl, however, and she still had a few hours to kill until then.

Elizabeth ripped the page she’d just written on out of her notepad, folding it up and slipping it into her pocket, so she didn’t have to worry about her mother coming across it on accident. After a few moment’s thought, the decided to start writing her letter to her father, at least the rough draft. She could work on the body of the message, if nothing else.

_Dear Mr. …_

_My name is Elizabeth Holmes. You do not know me, so please forgive my forwardness in writing to you. Doubtless my last name sounds familiar, although it has quite likely been over eleven years since you last heard it._

_I know that it has been at least eleven years as I am eleven years old._

_I know nothing of my father, my mother has only told me the basics. She became pregnant her final year in school, shortly before you transferred schools, and has kept me a secret from you, and you from me, since then._

_Why she did it, I don’t know, and I honestly don’t think she would answer me if I asked. It isn’t something commonly discussed with a child, after all._

_There was a point to this letter, before I started rambling. I want to meet you, to know who my father is. My mother does not know that I am sending this letter, I will send it with my owl while she is at work, but I do wish for answers. Answers that my mother will not give me, nor will my grandparents or uncle._

Elizabeth sighed as she read over the letter, ripping that page out of her notepad and folding it as well, slipping it in her pocket with the other paper. It would need work, but she supposed that she did have time. She wanted to understand, however, and she still had more questions than answers.

From the little that her mother had said of her father, Elizabeth was able to realize that she still cared for him, perhaps loved him. And yet, she did not attempt to contact him, to the best of Elizabeth’s knowledge. It made no sense.

She doubted that the man was dead, or her mother would have said so before now. Did they have a bad break up before he transferred schools? Was he married, and she didn’t want to disrupt his family? Had her mother even hinted about her existence? Did she talk to the man at all after he’d moved away.

Groaning, Elizabeth folded her arms on her desk, burying her head in her folded arms. Most kids her age would be more concerned with the fact that magic exists and she would be able to learn to use it. Instead, she was focusing on a decade old mystery that left her with more questions than answers.

It wasn’t the first time that she had searched for information on her father, but it was the first time that she actually had a feeling that answers were right around the corner. She could feel it, the answers were so close, she just needed to ask the right questions.

And she was stubborn enough to hunt down the answers she wanted, regardless of how long it would take.

 


	4. Chapter 4

“Where are we going first?” Elizabeth asked, looking around with wide eyes. Her mother had taken her to a shabby little pub that looked nothing like the types of places that her mother would normally frequent. But going through the pub and coming out into the back, watching her mother tap a certain series of bricks to reveal Diagon Alley…it was unbelievable. If she had any doubt that her mother was telling the truth, this would have erased it. There were people walking everywhere dressed in funny clothes, buying cauldrons and odd ingredients and many other things, some that she had no names for at present. Her mother had answered all of her questions, but the reality was so much better than what she’d pictured.

“I have already been to the bank, so there is no need to stop there,” Myra said, indicating that Elizabeth should take out her school list. “I believe we should start with the apothecary, then the robe shop. After that will be your astronomy supplies, the cauldron shop, and we will pick up your scales. Once we have done that, we will go for your wand, and then go and search for a pet for you. No toads, they are unseemly, but perhaps a cat, or an owl so that you won’t be dependent on the school owls.”

Elizabeth was mildly disappointed that she wouldn’t be getting her wand until nearly last, it was the thing that she was most excited about, but she supposed that was why her mother had made it their next-to-last stop. This way she would be able to focus on getting all of the supplies that she needed without wanting to get out her wand and examine it constantly. Of course, her mother had told her that she wasn’t able to do magic yet, she needed to be taught, but she would still have her own wand. Still, she was equally excited about getting her owl, especially after her mother had introduced her to Charcoal and admitted that the owl had brought her letter.

Myra, for her part, had spent little enough time in the wizarding world since Elizabeth had been born. She was the go between for the Minister of Magic and the muggle Prime Minister, as it was very impractical to have wizards who had never bothered to take muggle studies handling muggle relations. It had gotten better since Shacklebolt had become Minister of Magic, but it was still a sensible precaution. She spent most of her time in the muggle world, working behind the scenes to ensure the safety of the country, and Sherlock had more than once called her ‘the British government’ which wasn’t far from the truth, although on paper she merely had a minor position. Not much had changed in Diagon Alley since she had last visited, and she was grateful for the level of anonymity she still had. She knew that the wand shop would be a trial of her patience, as Ollivander’s successor was like him in many respects, but it was for Elizabeth and thus she would do it.

Myra led the way through Diagon Alley, ensuring that Elizabeth didn’t wander off anywhere. She knew that this was likely still a shock for her daughter, the existence of magic had only been revealed to her that morning, but she was also rather proud of how the girl was handling it. She was musing that perhaps they should stop for ice cream at the end of their trip, as they both deserved a treat for this, when she heard someone shouting her name. Or rather, a shortening of her name that she hadn’t heard in over eleven years.

“My! Myra!” Turning, she was entirely unsurprised to see John walking towards them. He was still short, something she remembered teasing him for when they had dated, blonde hair worn slightly shorter than he had preferred it in school. Same blue eyes, although there were a few small wrinkles at the corners, from smiling likely, unlike hers. She also saw the exact moment that John realized that she wasn’t alone. It was easy to see him doing the math in his head, trying to determine how old Elizabeth was (she was slightly tall for her age, but well within the normal range), and counting back to how long it had been since they were together.

She could also pinpoint the exact moment that he put the pieces together, as John stopped dead in the middle of the street, shock overriding his formerly friendly expression.

Glancing around, Mycroft realized they were close by Flourish and Blott’s. Perfect. “Elizabeth, here is your list. Go into the bookshop and see if you can find each of the books you will need for your first year, I will join you momentarily.

Unsurprisingly, Elizabeth resisted, wanting to see who the old friend was (and wondering if he was her father, given the look on her mother’s face, it was a possibility), but when her mother had that look, she knew that there was no arguing with her. Still, Elizabeth lingered near the doorway, behind a display so that she couldn’t be seen. She was close to actually getting answers, there was no way that she was missing this.

* * *

 

Once John remembered how to walk, he crossed the distance between them quickly. “My, is that…do you have a niece? Or a young cousin?” He was grasping at straws, not sure what answer he really hoped she would give.

“Sherlock has yet to reproduce, for which I am entirely grateful,” Myra said dryly. Her brother was already a handful, she didn’t need a miniature version of him to watch over. “And my family isn’t any larger now than it was when we were in school, barring Elizabeth, so she is not a cousin, second cousin, or whatever other possibilities you would want to eliminate. She is my daughter.”

John absorbed that information, holding back for a full ten seconds before he blurted out, “How old is she?” If she was as old as she looked…yes, he’d left during their final year of school, but it hadn’t been his fault. He’d been forced to switch schools, and he and Myra had still written to each other for a few months. If she…if Elizabeth was his…why hadn’t she told him? Did she think he wouldn’t take responsibility? Or that he didn’t care about her? John didn’t know, this whole thing was leaving him with more questions than answers and none of this was what he’d expected when he headed to Diagon Alley this morning.

“Elizabeth is your daughter,” Myra said bluntly, not feeling the need to beat around the bush any further. John wasn’t an idiot, if he knew her age, he would figure it out on his own. “I found out that I was pregnant three months into our seventh year.”

“A month before I had to transfer,” John murmured. Which was how she’d been able to keep it from him, that last month they hadn’t been intimate much, Myra had looked ill and John had been preoccupied with the upcoming move.

He wanted to apologize, to say something, anything, but before he could a new voice said, quite clearly, “He’s my father?”

Both John and Myra whipped around, finding Elizabeth standing beside the display she had previously been hiding behind, watching both of them with wide eyes.

“Eleven years the secret has lasted, and one day is all that it took to reveal the truth,” Myra said, sighing and heading over to Elizabeth. Now that it was all out in the open, they may as well have the discussion while they bought her school supplies.


End file.
